


Wyrm Snippets

by NotTheSmoooze



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Consensual Possession, Demonic Possession, Other, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21582124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTheSmoooze/pseuds/NotTheSmoooze
Summary: A series of snippets and short-stories written in an attempt to inspire a friend of mine. We'll see where it goes.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Rite 1.1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azryn/gifts).
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisha makes a deal.

Running. My lungs felt like fire. Everything did. My whole world was burning, flaking at the edges and curling like burnt paper, threatening to collapse. 

I could barely hear the thugs outside through the walls of the dingy shed I'd crawled into, but their threats still rang like church bells. I wanted to scream and kick and cry, and I did, but nothing happened, because nothing ever happened. No-one would ever come, no-one would ever help. Not unless I made them. 

Louder than all the shouts, the jeers, the threats, was the knowledge that I could stop this. Whatever the feeling was, I'd caught its attention weeks ago. It had been quiet, barely present — a weight in dark moments, an offering of something more when I was at my loneliest — but right now now, the message was crystal clear. I could be powerful, I could make monsters like those fuckers _afraid_ of me. So why shouldn't I? Why fight it? How could being human be so great if people like them qualified?

Fuck it. I knocked over the shield of clutter I'd prepared to shelter behind, and scrambled to clear space on the dusty floor. The shed adjoined a abandoned house on the ruined side of the bay, the kind of place that hadn't seen a soul in years. Dust built up, spiderwebs made homes in cramped corners, and girls hid from monsters. Enough area cleared, I brought my hand to my mouth and bit down, hard, then again, harder. I tore at my wrist until blood welled in the bitemarks I'd left in my skin, and made that blood my paint. 

Knowledge I could barely explain took a hold on me, and I drew circles of patterns and symbols on autopilot until the flow of blood slowed, then drew some more. I didn't understand any of them, but they didn't need to make sense. They just needed to work. I stared down at what I'd created, an intricate ring of red turning brown in the wood flooring, and my head complained, pounding at me with a mounting headache that pulsed in time with the fists beating at the door.

My fingers flew like brushes on a canvas. With a final stroke, my headache vanished, then redoubled with a new intensity. Instead of a dull pounding, though, there was meaning. Not words — because of-fucking-course it wouldn't be so simple — but intent.

[ᴘᴀᴄᴛ?]

"Fucking yes, obviously!" I was practically screaming. That door wouldn't last long. I had less than no idea what this would do, but there had to be a _reason_ people made pacts, and I wanted whatever it was before the thugs broke in.

[ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ] [ᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ] [ʜᴏsᴛ]

"Wait, wha-"

Pain tore through me, starting behind my eyes and ripping across my skin like a hot razor. I doubled over, stunned, clutching my head and fighting the urge to vomit. My eyes, fogged with pain, shot back to the ring I'd drawn, but I didn't get the chance to inspect it.

The door broke open, and a man stepped through. Tall and reedy, he wore thick leathers and held a club in one hand. It was a nasty thing, a long, barbed fishhook tied to its side. I didn't want it anywhere near me. Behind him, a handful of other creeps stood in a crowd, all clutching their own weapons; small knives, more clubs, and one large stone.

I crawled backwards, my arms whirling to grab something, a weapon, anything to defend myself with. Panicked fingers held tight to a rusty trowel, clutching to it for dear life and pointing it at the man ahead of me. He glanced across the room, and I wondered if I could hurt him bad enough that he'd just kill me.

"She's fucking gone! She must've snuck past us! Who wasn't keeping an eye out?" 

_Wait, what?_

I hardly dared to breathe. I didn't want to break the illusion. Any second now, he'd walk back inside, tell his friends he was just joking. Right? How else-

The pact. Fuck me. I laughed. I don't know how, or why, but it must've worked. I cackled, falling back against the wall, and fought hard to keep from making too much noise. I didn't want to break whatever spell I'd manged to cast. I dropped the trowel to clamp my hands over my mouth, and froze.

My hands were black. Blacker than normal. They were charcoal, fresh from the forge. My veins shone red, like liquid magma, a faint light shining through my skin, and tiny silver-grey dots freckled my body like speckled marble.

I screamed.

Distantly, words echoed in my mind.

[ᴅɪsᴛʀᴇss?]

I screamed louder.


	2. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor shaves.

I sat, back against the wall, crouching on the wet cobblestone. Victoria was right. I couldn't look like this, I couldn't _be this_ if we wanted to make it safely through town. Every stare felt like a lighthouse, and I was a jagged shoreline. They would break me, if they found me, and if I fought back, Victoria wouldn't be happy. I couldn't let that happen.

My body was sharp edges and rough carapace. The shell plating I'd spent the last however many years growing had receded, just a little, over the last few weeks, making way for soft pink skin, new and sensitive. Time travelling with Victoria had dulled that part of me. It wasn't enough. 

I held my left hand in my right. Each of my fingers were tipped with claws, shiny and dull grey. They weren't pretty, but they'd been useful, easily able to dig through bark and tear the toughest strands of muscle and ligament, the meat my bugs' jaws couldn't sever. I grimaced, held the tip of a claw, and bent it backwards. 

The pain hit me. I didn't scream or cry — I'd broke that habit a long time ago — but my bugs _roared_, howling the frustration that my mouth wouldn't, couldn't, for fear of discovery. I pulled at my claw until it came loose, the tip snapping, and moved on to the next. One claw after another, until my hand was bare and my fingertips were bloody. The other hand came next.

I undid a strap on the clothes Victoria had given me, and shoved the leather clasp into my mouth, biting down hard. I pulled at the scale and shell that stuck to my neck, and thousands of flies, beetles, roaches, millipedes, wasps, and spiders screamed my pain. _Better mutilated than monstrous. The humans won't kill me for my scars._

The worst came last. I drew my knife, and held it to my face. I couldn't do anything about my eyes, but...

I cut into the skin at my lips, and dug under my mandibles. I shut my eyes, fighting back tears, and cut until my teeth hurt from holding my mouth shut. I wasn't sure how much time passed. It felt like hours. The chitin wasn't as tough as bone, but it felt like it. My steel didn't break it easily, but eventually, both mandibles fell to the ground.

Blood flooded my mouth, and I fought not to choke on it. This would be worth it. This pain, it would save me later. It would save Victoria. It was worth it.


	3. Rite 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec meets a friend.

I was content. My room was warm and comfortable, I had decent food to eat, a flute of fine(ish) wine, all the books I could plan to read but never actually start, and a window with a perfect view of a sky full of stars. The stories lied, crime definitely pays, and the heavy jangle of the gold coins in my pockets still reeked of that 'newly-stolen' smell. I was definitely content.

'Content' was boring. 'Content' was why I came _here_ in the first place. If I wanted a life in the lap of luxury, I'd have just stayed at home. At least then I wouldn't have to mask my identity. 

Laying on my bed, I wriggled backwards until my head was dangling over the edge of the mattress, staring out into the night. I rolled my eyes, wondering how long it'd be before people started waking up. I mean, really, when people think vampire, they think that a fear of sunlight is the worst part. It's not like I couldn't solve my little skin condition with a hood, some long sleeves, and a pair of gloves. No, the _worst_ part of being a vampire was that I didn't need to sleep. Rather, couldn't sleep. No matter how long the night stretched on. Apparently, dear old dad had managed some trick with a coffin, but he hadn't deigned to share.

_Still, at least this place isn't all dull_. Eventually, the sun had to rise, and when it did, I'd would have a chance to _socialise_. Over the past half-year, I'd made regular visits to a few of the bay's more interesting citizens, and figuring them out was like a puzzle that could talk back. The fact I couldn't charm them — not magically, anyway — had irritated at first, but it had become a part of the game. It was so close to exciting that I'd almost felt it. I'd head out now, but people were boring when they didn't have sleep. And angry. That too.

I was half-considering waking up Brian or Lisa when I heard a knock on my window.

A face like a constellation rose over the windowsill. It belonged to a woman, I was certain, and she was beautiful. The human parts of her, anyway. High cheekbones, and a long, slender neck. She was familiar in a way I couldn't place, but I was distracted by the rest of her. Her skin was darker than the night behind her, and her eyes shone with an orange glow. Short, curved horns rose from her forehead, parting her hair, and faint silver freckles painted her cheeks.

I allowed myself exactly five seconds to admire the demon breaking into my room before shouting for the resident warlock. 

"Briaaaaaaaan!" I skipped backwards, ever-graceful. I wasn't scared, as-such, it was more that demons had a tendency to be... tricky. Before Brian, I'd been spared the misfortune of encountering any, but I'd been extremely disappointed to discover that, in the event a demon _did_ break free of its bindings, a vampire's charm wasn't all too effective at controlling it.

I spun, searching the room for my sceptre, then paused. Why would I need it? Better question, why was I standing up? There had been... something, just a moment ago. Eyes still searching, I found my sceptre where I'd thrown it, tossed on the ground at the foot of my bed. Holding it tight, I twirled it in one hand, tossing it to the other, pondering. Quiet moments passed, and I shrugged, flopping back onto my bed. 

My hand still held tight to my weapon.

The door swung open, and a slightly-dishevelled, exhausted Brian stumbled through, dressed in a long grey shirt, heavy boots, and little else. He held his helmet in one hand, and his other was raised in a fighting stance. 

His voice was serious, deep. His shadow was already growing, making him taller, more dangerous, and adding a reverb to his words. "What's going on? Why'd you shout?"

_I have no idea._ "Oh, right. Prank. Don't worry about it."

The shadow grew, and Brian spoke through grinding teeth. "Alec. We might not have a job tomorrow, but waking people up like this-"

I cut him off. "I get it. Not funny. Won't happen again."

Brian looked like he wanted to say more, but held his mouth shut. He stared at me for a long moment before turning and leaving, somehow managing to quietly slam the door behind him. Tired Brian was always too sleepy to argue with me, but I knew from experience that I'd have to deal with him tomorrow

I turned around, and the demon stood in front of me.

Memory of her came flooding back, of her face poking over my windowsill. Now that I looked at her properly, past all the horns and brimstone, the girl surprised me. She was definitely hot, I was on the money there, but her face wasn't as 'evil' as I'd expected. Mostly, she just looked worried, and I still couldn't shake the feeling I knew her. "Neat trick, but showing up unannounced in the middle of the night is kinda my thing." 

She spoke, voice a whisper, and it hit me. "Alec, what the fuck! Ssssh!" 

_Wait, Aisha?_ "Wait, Aisha?"

"Obviously, idiot!" She hissed at me. The sound suited her.

"Oh, my mistake. Love the new look, by the way. Did you do something with your hair?"

She winced, and I really was surprised that I hadn't realised who she was sooner. I didn't exactly know Aisha well — she was new, and we only met because she was Brian's little sister — but she seemed cool enough. More fun than anyone else I worked with, for sure. In all her movements, that girl was there.

I kept talking. "What's up with that, by the way? You good, or do I need to go get... I wanna say holy water? A cross? Your brother?"

Aisha winced again. "Please no. He'd freak out so hard and never trust me for _anything_ ever again. And I'm fine! I'm fine, I just need to. Fix this. Somehow." She waved her arms as she spoke, patting up and down her body. "You can help with that, right? You've known Brian for ages, you've gotta know about curing something like this."

I shook my head. "Uh-uh. My knowledge of demons is limited to how to run away from them. I might have something, though..."

I stepped away from Aisha, and she eagerly followed. I opened my drawers and shuffled through them while Aisha leaned over my shoulder, peeking at the contents. 

I bit my lip for dramatic effect. "Somewhere... here... ah, there. Behold." 

I withdrew a long, black box from the draw, gently placing it on top of the draws.

Aisha leaned closer, pushing me towards the box. "What is it?"

I smiled, genuine, and removed the lid. Inside was a brush and a collection of make-up. 

Aisha punched my shoulder.

I pushed her back, smirk still on my face. "Hey, relax! You might need a lot of it, but you could totally pull off 'regular-human'. I do it all the time! Might need a hat, but we'll make it work."

Her annoyance turned to confusion. "Why would I need a ha-." Aisha paled. It was an odd sight. Her skin didn't change colour, but her freckles seemed to dull, the thin lines of red that ran under her skin dimming slightly. Her hands shot to her hair, ruffling through it, and found her horns. Her eyes were wide as her fingers curled around them, tugging, tapping, and poking. 

Her distress was plain as day. I didn't feel guilty, not really, but it didn't seem worth making any more jokes. I kinda liked Aisha, and I didn't want to piss of her brother any more than I already had. Not yet, anyway.

I put the make-up lid down. "Okay, okay, but I do actually know something that might help. I know a doctor, sort-of, who might be able to help. She's a little infernal herself."

Aisha's eyes perked up, horns forgotten. "Who? Wait, I thought you said you don't know anything about demons?"

I looked out into the night. Dawn wouldn't be too far away by the time I reached the manor. I was pretty sure I could get away with a visit. 

"I don't. So, dear Aisha," I stepped towards the window, eyes on particular house in the noble district. "Let's go and meet my girlfriend."


End file.
